The End (SYOC)
by Son of Arryn
Summary: It was prophecized years ago that Melkor would return, for the End of all things. Now, his lieutenants are beginning to wreak having upon Middle-Earth. Turin and Alassien, two elves, as well as Khumen, are attempting to put a stop to their machinations. However, they can't do it alone. SYOC OPEN
1. Ch1: Two Elves, a Dwarf and a Brothel

The End (SYOC)

Prologue: Two Elves, a Dwarf…and a Brothel?

The White City had begun to play host to a variety of new things: more tournaments, more schools, and as of very late: more brothels. That's what came with the cost of an ever-growing city. Most were your typical pleasure houses, with women scantily clad servicing the gallant Gondorian soldiers. However, there was a particularly…different one, at the edge of the city, if you were in the mood for something different.

It was called One for All's Ale House, which wasn't a very clever name to hide the name of a whorehouse. The atmosphere was jovial, the women and _men _were friendly, and drinks were to be had all around. Smiles lit up the faces of the Gondorians and the foreigners who were inside. On one day, it was the site of something _very_ different.

It was just a turn past noon in the White City, and business was booming as it did every afternoon. Soldiers getting off the night shift tended to flock towards the brothels before a break. Today was no different. Whoops of laughter echoed through the tavern, soldiers shedding their coats at the door and loosening up their trousers as they took seats in chairs. Unlike many other brothels in the White City however, a few women took seats alongside them, wealthy women from the center of town. For the Ale House could serve every delicacy.

The lights were dimming when the door crashed open. Some heads turned, while others remained focused on the people servicing them. At the door were three peculiar individuals.

The first to come in was an Elf, that was for sure. Long auburn hair adorned his head, falling in effortless sheets down his back and chest. He was sinewy and slim, but powerful muscle could be seen in his arms and neck. His undershirt was a deep crimson, while his flowing robes were a pearly white. Crystal blue eyes pierced the crowd assembled at the pleasure house.

The second was also an Elf, though he appeared to be from a different place than the first Elf. Paler and shorter, this one seemed younger. Green eyes like emeralds sparkled, a bow slung over his shoulder. Unlike the first elf, this one adorned green armor like those of the Woodland Realm.

Perhaps most surprisingly was their third companion, a short and stout Dwarf, whose scowl seemed to turn most away from him. He was dressed in clothing far too warm for the weather of the area. A hefty axe was slung over his back.

"Alassien," The dwarf snarled at the crimson-garbed elf. "What are we doing here? This-this is unnatural. This is a Man's whorehouse."

"I am inclined to agree with Khumen here," The second elf replied, glancing at the seemingly most senior among them. "What are we doing here?"

"I didn't come halfway across the world to be judged by an _onna,_" Alassien said magnanimously, stepping into the house. "This is where we need to be at this present time. Morgoth's presence looms large over this place."

The human crowds parted for Alassien, Khumen, and Turin. They approached the barkeep, who also doubled as the owner of the whore house.

"Get me a good one," Khumen grinned, his eyes glinting.

Alassien simply sighed and leaned up against the oaken bar. "I'm looking for a man. Remme, they said his name was. They said he works here."

"Ah!" The jovial man broke out into a beaming smile. "Our star! Yes, yes, he's up in his room, preparing for the next one. You're lucky," His voice dropped low. "He doesn't seem to mind the presence of men."

Turin, the golden-haired elf, had the modesty to blush. Khumen was aghast, and Alassien just nodded. "What door?" Alassien asked.

"Payment first," The barkeep replied. "He's running a bit of a high rate, but you'll be pleased, I promise you that."

Alassien glanced back at Khumen, who was the wealthiest in terms of Man's currency of the group. The dwarf was disgruntled. "I am not paying for a male whore," Khumen snarled. "I'd rather pay for a nice, homely woman. Dwarvish, too.'

The look from the eldest Elf seemed to silence anymore discontent among the group, and the Dwarf pressed coins onto the table. The manager grabbed what he needed and pushed the rest back at them. "Up the stairs, first door on the right. Have fun."

The man chortled as the group made their way up the stairs, each one creaking as they went. It had begun to rain outside, the windows streaking with the afternoon mist. There was a note tacked to the door the man had told them to go to: _Remme. _Alassien tapped on the door three times.

"Come in!" A voice returned. Alassien noticed that it was honey-like, dripping with the kind of deep, yet light voice that Gondor women seemed to enjoy.

Alassien pushed open the door, and the three stumbled into the chamber. A feather bed was set up in the room, blankets thrown about. Rugs lined the floor of all different colors; the armoire was open, and shirts were spilling out of the bottom of it. The smell in the room was sickening, the heavy smell of love in the air. Khumen coughed, tears springing to his eyes at the pungent smell. The barkeep hadn't been wrong at all, this Remme had plenty of visitors.

"Three?" A voice came from to the left of them. Alassien's focus snapped to attention, seeing a man resting against the doorframe to the bathroom. The man, presumably Remme, was shirtless, muscles adorning his chest and abs, with trails of brown hair leading to what laid beneath the trousers he was wearing. In another world, had he been shorter, he could've passed for a dwarf. He had dark, curly brown hair, which was worn rather short and he had the beginnings of a beard. His eyes were a golden-brown, and his smirk was nearly permanent on his face. Remme exhibited a large scar on his lower abdomen, which Alassien's eyes were drawn towards. "I don't know if I've ever had three Men, but two Elves and a Dwarf? That should be exciting." The smirk only widened as Khumen sputtered at the mention of himself.

"We're here on business," Turin began, but Remme just began to saunter towards them.

"Yeah I'm sure," Remme clucked to the young elf, his hand reaching down. Turin gasped as his hand began to work. Turin slapped it away within a few seconds.

"Ow," Remme replied, a look of hurt on his face as he held his hand to his bare chest. "Never met an Elf, to be quite honest."

"We won't be getting that familiar," Turin tried to stay dignified, straightening his back. Khumen had retreated behind the young elf, not wanting to be fondled in the same way.

Remme took a step closer to Alassien, his eyes brightening as he took in the stoic elf. "This _will_ be fun." His hands slid down Alassien's sides, finding the belt that held his robes together. "He wants to play," Remme noticed, slowly rubbing his chest up against Alassien's.

To Turin and Khumen's marvel, Alassien didn't shrink away or react at all, he simply touched the Man's scar. "We're here to talk about this." His voice was measured, calm.

"Oh," Remme took a step back, looking at the three of them. "This – this isn't a job, is it?"

"No, god damn it!" Khumen muttered angrily, pointing his stubby finger at the man. "Don't go thumbing through our trousers!"

Remme simply laughed, throwing his head back and letting out pure, warm sounds. "Go downstairs, sit at one of the booths. I'll be down in a few moments, I'll get dressed and we can start this talk, whatever you want to do."

Turin and Khumen immediately made for the door, but Alassien made a gesture with his head for them to go ahead, that he'd stay. When Remme had disappeared into the bathroom to change. "He's a flight risk," Alassien told them.

Turin and Khumen made their way back down the stairs, the smell beginning to lift. They spotted an empty booth in the back of the room. Khumen glanced at Turin, then at the booth. "I don't want to sit next to the whore," Khumen grumbled.

Turin was still pink from his interaction with the man. "Me neither," He mumbled, buckling his belt that had been loosened.

Disgruntled, the two of them settled into one side of the booth together. A woman came over to get their orders, and Turin simply ordered them four ales. When Khumen attempted to butt in with something else, Turin gripped his arm painfully until he stopped speaking. "Not everyone here is a tavern wench," He said fiercely.

Alassien and Remme descended the stairs together. Remme had gotten into a thick, woolen sweatshirt that seemed to cover almost everything. When he turned towards their booth, Turin realized it had been a gift. The wool was barely woven together, large patches of his skin still showing.

Alassien and Remme settled into the other side of the booth. "Who do I have to thank for the ale?" Remme grinned at the other two.

Turin shyly raised a hand, Khumen having refused to pay for the man's drink. Remme gave him a thankful smile. "What is it you want to know?" Remme asked, folding his arms and setting them on the table.

"We're pursuing a man, and we heard you ran into him outside of Dale," Khumen set a map on the table. "A shapeshifter. One who can change his face into whatever he wants, so he's nearly impossible to catch."

"Ah," Remme said, taking a large swig of the ale. He set it down with a thud. "You want to know how I got this?" He raised his shirt, showing the scar that they'd seen earlier.

Turin's brow furrowed. "That-that's not what we're talking about."

"Yes, it is," Remme replied warmly. It didn't seem as though he took offense to much of anything. "This man you're speaking of, that's who did this. He was a client of mine in Dale, I had a fun enough time, but he seemed off to me. Rarely spoke, seemed as though he wasn't enjoying anything. I pulled all the stops, too!" He said indignantly. "Anyway, I was packing to come here, after all. I was set to take off the next day. I was venturing out, when I felt a presence near me. I turned, and it was a different man."

"He changed?" Alassien asked for clarification.

"He did," Remme confirmed. "Before, he'd been a blonde hunk of a man, now he was a skinny black-haired boy wearing all black clothing."

"How do you know it was him?" Khumen demanded, his hand pounding on the tabletop.

"The eyes," Remme replied softly. "They were the exact same. In this line of business, you forget a lot of things about your clients. The eyes, you never forget. His were the only ones I'd ever seen that were joyless while I did my job. He lunged at me with a knife, stuck me right here," His hand traced the scar that he had on his abdomen.

"What happened next?" Alassien prompted.

"Well, I think he must've heard something near us," Remme told them, running a hand through his curly locks, as if trying to remember. "Because he ran. Must've thought I'd bleed out. Nearly did too. A few guards from Dale had followed me out of the city, and they carried me back."

"Why'd they follow you?" Turin asked curiously, having a moustache from the ale he'd drank. So far, he was the only one finished with his drink.

Remme blushed and fiddled with a napkin. "I suppose I might've taken something that I wasn't supposed to from one of the higher-born ladies there. Not important, though. When I'd healed from there, I set out here to get here in time for my gig with this lovely place."

Alassien nodded, his eyes glancing around the room as though he was trying to fit in a piece of a puzzle. "Why would Melkor's lieutenant be following around a male hooker from…" He turned to Remme. "Where are you from, actually?"

"Dunno," Remme replied. "And Melkor? Isn't that a myth?"

"God, he's stupid," Khumen grumbled. "He's not a myth, kid. And for some reason, one of his allies was after you. Any reason why, we should know?"

Remme at first shook his head, but then he blinked a few times, rubbing his hands on the counter. "Well…"

"Spit it out," Khumen snarled. "We don't have all day, he could've followed you here."

"There was the thing I'd stolen from this lady in Dale," Remme said, shifting on his feet nervously. "It was a huge gem, it sparkled white, blue, orange, all of these different colors. They seemed to be telling stories in them, and that was only in the hour I was in possession of it."

Alassien's slim hand caught the man's chin in a vice-like grip. "You were in the possession of a Silmaril?"

"Silmaril?" Turin gasped. "Those haven't been seen in ages, how do you know that's it?"

"I do," Alassien replied, gripping Remme's face tightly. "What happened to it?"

Remme gasped in pain, the Elf's strength too much for the smaller man. "I-the men from Dale took it. Returned it to the woman."

Alassien let go of him at last, and the hooker nursed his aching jaw.

"Who is this woman?" Alassien asked him, facing Remme. "Is she from Dale as well?"

"No, I don't think so," Remme said, hurt. "She was just in town. I assume this…whatever you called it, is in her possession again."

The door opened to the brothel, and in stepped possibly the most gorgeous man Remme had ever seen. Toned muscles, a shapely behind, and…familiar eyes. The lifeless dark grey ones he'd seen in Dale. "Al-Alassien?" Remme said fearfully, gripping the Elf's hand. "It's him."

Alassien had already seen the door and had vaulted up into the air. A spray of arrows rang out, hitting some of the soldiers sitting in the bar. Chaos reigned in the seconds that followed, the women screaming and running for the stairs that led up into the hookers' private chambers. Some soldiers had reached for weapons, while others were buttoning up their pants, but it was no use. Most already had arrows buried in the backs of their skulls, their heads face-down on the tables they had been eating from before.

Turin shoved Remme down underneath the booth, knowing the man would be no use in a fight. Alassien had drawn his sword, a beautiful, nearly pearly white blade that cut through the air with precision. Khumen yelled in anger and charged after the Elf.

Turin had drawn his bow and was beginning to fire at the man. He seemed to have superhuman agility, leaping onto the walls and running across bannisters and tabletops. The remainder of the soldiers had raced into the streets, warning people passing by to get out of the area.

Alassien jumped onto a table where the man was, surprising him. His sword gleamed as a crack of lightning struck outside. The Elf attempted to stab Melkor's servant, but it was parried by a sharp jab from the shapeshifter's own weapon. Khumen was struggling to get onto a table to try and help them and had resorted to chucking his axe at the man. The golden-haired beauty ducked, and it buried into a container of ale on the wall. Liquid burst out of it, coating the dwarf as well as Turin, who had been standing near him.

Alassien let out a cry as the shapeshifter grabbed a hold of his throat, his powerful leg kicking the elf's sword out of his grip. It clinked as it slid out of the way, useless to him now. The auburn-haired elf reached for a knife hidden on his person, but the shapeshifter caught his hand and twisted, a sickening snapping sound ringing out in the room. Alassien's shriek could be heard for blocks, a wicked smile appearing on his aggressor.

"You'll never win," The man's demonic voice muttered.

"Oh yeah?" A voice piped up from behind him. It took him a second too long to react as Remme shoved Alassien's sword into his gut. The shapeshifter instantly crumpled, and Alassien used it to his advantage, wrenching the sword out of Remme's hands and slicing the shapeshifter's head off.

Broken glass, bodies, and ale had covered the tavern. Turin and Khumen, drenched in ale, wandered towards the other two. "Maybe we should bring the whore with us," Khumen mused.

"We need to." Alassien nursed his injured arm, letting it hang as he gripped Remme's shirt with his other hand. "You're coming with us."

**A/N: I hope you liked the beginning of The End :D I had an amazingly fun time writing this beginning, so I hope you all liked it too and want to join in on the fun! There's a surprising dearth of LotR SYOCs on the site, and I think this will be a wonderful addition to the tally. I love all my babies, Alassien, Remme, Turin, and Khumen. They are all so alive in my heart, I can't wait to see what's in store for everyone. So please, submit and enjoy the story. Importantly, review! I love hearing feedback on what you think as well!**

FORM (Also on Profile)

Name:

Nickname (if any):

Species:

Gender:

Age (Elf can be unknown):

Occupation (if any specific):

Sexuality:

Current Location:

Current Residence (can be same):

Personality:

Backstory:

Hair Color:

Hair Style:

Eye Color:

Height:

Clothing (Formal, Adventure, and Sleepwear):

Other Appearance things that are pertinent:

Family:

Romance?:

Weapons:

Armor:

Right or Left Handed:

Strengths (4):

Weaknesses (4):

Opinions of…

Elves:

Dwarves:

Men:

Alassien (assume after they've met for all 4):

Remme:

Turin:

Khumen

RATINGS (out of 10)

Strength: /10

Stamina: /10

Flexibility: /10

Speed: /10

Agility: /10

Strategy: /10

Intelligence: /10

Wisdom: /10

Why are they involved in the plot (job/relation to mains/romance?)?:

How do I get them involved with the other 4 (ideas):

Other:

**A/N: I know the form looks like a bear, but really most of it is 1 or 2 word answers. I would love to get a bunch of submissions going. If you'd like to know more about the plot, you can PM me that as well, but I didn't want to post it here to ruin the surprise if people want it to get surprised.**


	2. Ch2: A New Member

**The End (SYOC) – See Author's Note at end of Chapter**

**Chapter 2: **

The group made their way out of Minas Tirith the same night, not ending too far out of the city before they were confronted with the darkness of night. Stars glittered in the sky above them, and their only shield was a forest that laid away from the city. Alassien, injured from the fight with the shapeshifter, led the group towards it. The forest wasn't very big, for they could nearly see the end of it with even Remme's sight.

They laid there for the night, all tucked in. They were surely an odd sight to any passerby, two Elves, wearing just nightclothes, a Man, tucked in with one of the Elves' cloaks, and a Dwarf, already bundled in furs, laying off to the side of the group. A small fire burned amid their camp.

The night was luckily uneventful for our small troop, or at least for most of them. The tallest Elf among them, Alassien, could feel the bitter pang of a broken arm while he attempted to sleep. And when he did manage to doze off, he was sucked into a dream not his making.

Visions blurred through his mind, of forests alight, ground splitting between Gondor and Rohan. Visions of Men, Elves, and Dwarves dying, of…Orcs. Hordes of them, looking as though they'd come right from the books of history that had popped up since the War of the Ring. Orcs were rare, and when noticed, were pursued heavily throughout the lands. When he came to, his arm was throbbing even harder than before. However, he was surprised when he felt someone touch it.

Remme, the man whore from Gondor, was kneeling beside him, the arm in his lap. Different vials of liquids and balms were set beside his feet, the skin bared to the young man. His hands were resting above the broken bone, applying a salve.

"You know the healing arts?" Alassien was surprised, unable to keep it out of his voice.

Remme gave him a grin. "Yeah." He said sheepishly, grabbing some cloth.

The pain was beginning to subside in Alassien's arm, the balm that Remme had applied had worked wonders. He regarded the man for a moment, wondering just where he'd came from originally. He seemed as talented as some of the healers in Lorien. "Where'd you learn how to do that?" Alassien asked.

Remme didn't reply for a moment as he bound the arm in the spare bit of cloth that he'd found in his bag. His warm eyes found Alassien's. "Some things better left unsaid, don't you think?" Without another word, the man got up and wandered to look at trees in the forest.

The elf very much disagreed with his assessment. Maybe he'd trained with Elves at some point, Alassien thought, or even some Elven-trained Men. Either way, he was an asset to the group if he could heal as well as that. Though, Alassien wondered, was it a coincidence that they met him?

When the Man was off by himself, Alassien walked to his Elven counterpart and shook him awake. Blinking, Turin sat up. His neat blonde hair hadn't been disturbed by sleep, staying as straight and perfect as it had been before. "Your arm." Turin said immediately, having noticed he shook him with the formerly injured one.

"Remme fixed it," Alassien said.

Bemusement flickered through Turin's face, and settled into a look of confusion. "How? He's a prostitute from Minas Tirith, how would he know how to do that?"

"I'm not sure," Alassien bit his lip, thinking.

"I'm not sure about a lot of things," Turin admitted as he got up, stretching. The sun had begun to rise in the distance, providing them with a bit of morning light.

"Guys?" Remme's voice came from a distance away. "Help?"

When Alassien and Turin scrambled over to see what the matter was, they were both surprised. A fierce-eyed she-Elf stood with an arrow nocked straight at Remme's head. She had even paler blonde hair than Turin had, as if she'd been out in the sun. Her sun-kissed skin confirmed that, tanner than most Elves. She wasn't quite as dark as Alassien but was much more than Turin. Bright blue eyes were focused on the two Elves that had approached.

"You know this man?" She demanded, looking at the two of them.

"Yes," Alassien replied in a measured tone. "He's with us. What's your name?" He said lightly.

"Rialle," She lowered her bow. "I've been tracking a shapeshifter here to Minas Tirith from the plains of Rohan. He got out of my reach and seemed to nearly flee for the city. Have you seen him?"

"Seen him?" Turin was aghast. "He's dead now."

"Dead!" Rialle was surprised, resting her bow on the ground and leaning on it. "Who killed him? Was it you?"

"It was him," Alassien gestured to Remme.

"Him?" Rialle raised an eyebrow.

"Not entirely," Khumen had woken up and wandered over. "Made him incapacitated, sure. It was Alassien cutting his head off that probably finished the job."

"A dwarf too?" Rialle marveled. "What are you doing in this forest, some sort of strange ritual? What would you need two Elves, a Dwarf, and a Man for?"

Khumen and Alassien's eyes met. Khumen shook his head resolutely, and they seemed to argue through their eyes. Turin simply sighed and took a seat on a large rock that happened to be sitting nearby. He ran a hand through his silky blonde hair, working out a leaf that had worked its way into his hair. Remme, freed from the she-Elf's grasp, took a seat beside Turin. The elf nervously shifted a bit to his right, remembering the incident from the day before. Remme's warm laugh echoed through the forest.

"I was also following a group of Orcs that seemed to be near him," Rialle said, interrupting Khumen and Alassien's war of thoughts. "Have you seen them?"

The sound of pounding against the ground seemed to answer their question. Khumen let out a string of colorful curses, his stubby finger pointing at Alassien as he grabbed his axe from off the ground. "Why didn't you lead with that?" Khumen yelled at Rialle.

She was confused. "The shapeshifter was more important."

They formed a defensive circle with Remme at its core, as he was the most inexperienced fighter. He was armed with but two daggers, pressed into his hands by the dwarf. Alassien and Khumen were on either side of him, Alassien's sword drawn and Khumen wielding two axes. Meanwhile, Rialle and Turin had scurried up two trees to get a better advantage from above. They simply waited.

The Orcs didn't make them wait long. A group, probably thirty strong, crested over the hill to their right within a minute. They were banging their armor, teeth bared at the seemingly small group of warriors at the bottom of it.

"Why didn't we grab the high ground?" Khumen snarled.

"And run straight into them as they emerged? I don't think so," Alassien replied coolly. "Get behind me, Remme." He thrust the man behind him.

They had come up a different side than they had thought, Remme now behind Alassien and Khumen. He stayed closer to the Elf, more similar in height than with the shorter dwarf. The first rank of Orcs began to descend the hill, weapons drawn and making good time. At that moment, a spray of arrows unleashed from the trees, Rialle and Turin having stocked their bows with three and four arrows each. Only a few Orcs went down, their thick armor making some of the arrows snap on impact.

Alassien spun as soon as they got within range, his sword making a beautiful arc and slicing the throats of two Orcs that had the misfortune of being the first to get near the Elf. Khumen sprang into action after that, ducking beneath Alassien's attack, and slamming his axe into the chest of another. Another volley of arrows was launched, sinking into Orcs at the back end of the group.

Remme watched with a fascinated expression as Alassien and Khumen expertly dispatched Orc after Orc, sending them crashing down the hill towards him with limbs and heads severed. Once they were all dead or incapacitated, the two went back to him. Turin leapt out of the tree, letting out a whoop of delight as he hit the ground on both feet, sticking the landing. Rialle simply rolled her eyes as she climbed back down the tree.

"Would you like to join us?" Alassien asked Rialle, brushing his auburn hair behind his ear. "We could always use another sharpshooter in our midst."

"I would be honored." Rialle replied, giving them her first grin. Remme chuckled a bit at that.

Alassien once again led the group out of the forest, striding ahead with Rialle as they launched into a conversation on their pasts. Turin was enjoying the wind brushing through his hair as he ran more than was probably necessary. That left the dwarf, Khumen, alongside Remme as they walked into northern Gondor.

"When did this all begin?" Remme asked Khumen curiously, knowing the three of them were together before they had even reached him. "How do you know Alassien and Turin?"

"Ah, kid," Khumen said as he walked beside Remme. "You surely don't want our entire origin story, do ya?"

Remme simply shrugged, carrying a pack on his shoulders, the two knives in sheaths on his belt. "I mean, what else are we doing as he walk all this way? Not much. You can tell me, I just want to know where you all are from."

"Well," Khumen began, his gruff voice beginning to tell the tale. "Truth be told, I don't know much of Alassien's background. I know he's a pretty powerful Elf and all that. He was the one that sought me out. I was in the Blue Mountains with some Dwarves up there, scavenging off the land, doing as we wished. Back when Thorin retook the Lonely Mountain, some of us stayed in the Blue Mountains with what we had. That's where I'm from, the Blue Mountains."

"Oh." Remme replied, running a hand through his curly, dark hair. "I may have passed by there once."

"Sure," Khumen said good-naturedly as they walked side-by-side. "But, anyway, one morning, we all wake up and there's this tall, red-haired Elf standing in the middle of our camp. As soon as he spots me, he takes me out and we're alone, and he asks me to join this journey to try and find the Silmarils that will somehow defeat this Melkor guy, who's been dead for thousands of years, but is somehow coming back again. It was confusing, but hell, I didn't have anything else going on, so I said sure, why not, I'll come."

"Uh huh," Remme clucked his tongue lightly. "Family? Friends? Just left that all behind? And where did Turin come in?"

"Getting there," Khumen muttered impatiently. "Alassien must've made quite the journey, because I know he's from Lorien, which isn't actually absurdly far from here. He journeyed all the way to the Blue Mountains alone, on foot. From there, he and I went to Bree, spent a night or two resting there, then made our way across the Misty Mountains. I never questioned what he was doing, where we were going, none of it. It would be wise if you didn't either. We made it to the Elvenking's Halls in Greenwood, or what used to be Mirkwood."

"What was Turin's job there?" Remme asked curiously.

"You're not very patient, little one," Khumen grumbled, despite being significantly shorter than the man. "He was a guard of the Elvenking's daughter, one of the best too. Alassien spoke to the King, then to his daughter, and Turin was allowed to come with us. From there, we ventured south, tracking the steps of this shapeshifter, followed him all the way to Dale, and then tracked you to Minas Tirith."

"You skipped a lot," Remme noted. "But we'll get to that at a different time, I suppose."

"What about you?" Khumen asked him. "Seems as though you've been everywhere too, and you're but a whore. Mind telling me anything about that?"

Remme let out a laugh and jogged ahead of the dwarf, supplanting Rialle to walk beside Alassien. The she-Elf chased after Turin, who was joyfully rolling down hills and doing full-body somersaults down them. "Slow down!" Rialle grinned as she caught up to the younger Elf.

"You did well with a bow," Rialle noted as he brushed grass off of his pants, standing up beside her.

Turin gave her a bright smile. "Thank you."

Rialle grinned when she noticed he didn't return the compliment. "I could use a bit of work, couldn't I?"

Turin sheepishly nodded a bit. "Yeah. Some of your arrows simply bounced off harmlessly. There were some good shots," He added when he noticed he had been a bit blunt.

"Not as many as yours," Rialle replied with a grin, sliding her arm around his waist. "You did wonderfully."

His cheeks were pink, a color that Rialle found suited the young Elf quite well. She smiled brightly, having noticed earlier when he had tried to scoot away from Remme. "My," Rialle smirked and stroked his abdomen. "You don't seem like someone that has that much muscle underneath there."

Turin actually shivered, and Rialle let out a laugh, unhanding him and letting him go back to running about the grassy plain that lied ahead of them. The group walked farther away from each other, Turin sprinting ahead, Alassien walking alone after that, his crimson robes billowing in the wind, then Remme with his sparkle in his eye only getting brighter after walking near Alassien. Rialle was after him, keeping her distance from the man, and Khumen brought up the rear. They walked like that for days, stopping and sleeping only when either Remme or Khumen got too tired to go on.

One night, it had begun to rain. It pelted them from all angles, and they knew they'd need somewhere dry to stay the night so they would be able to dry their clothes and belongings. Turin was on ahead of them again, looking for a cave or a small village they could stay in. "Here!" His voice boomed ahead of them, pointing at a small cave that was just barely poking out of the ground.

They climbed down into the now-muddy cave. Khumen carried larger rocks to try and keep the water from coming in too far into the cave. Meanwhile, Alassien worked on starting a fire in one of the dry areas, where the mud was just dirt. Rialle bent down to help him and let out a joyful chuckle when she was the one to succeed.

The dim light illuminated the damp cave. There was little room to maneuver, and it seemed that they were already at the back of it. Remme hung a spare bit of wire from one end of the cave to the other, tucking it against rocks so it would stay.

"So…" Turin said awkwardly, knowing they'd need to get rid of most of their clothing to let it dry.

Remme simply raised an eyebrow and stared the young Elf in the eyes as he began to take off his clothes. Turin blushed and looked away, unable to keep eye contact. None of the rest of them made any noises, Remme dressed in just his trousers as he bent down by the fire.

"Now you," Rialle said jokingly as she jabbed Turin in the side with the hilt of her knife.

Turin thought she was serious, stammering as he undid his robe and took off his undershirt. Rialle grinned when she saw the pale skin, Turin slim and slightly muscular. He laid his clothes on the wire. Alassien had laid his cloak down on the floor so someone could sleep on it, having nearly an infinite number of underclothes on.

Khumen didn't get completely undressed, wearing a thin undershirt and trousers, but it still seemed as though he had the most clothes on the wire. They all watched as water flooded down from their clothes, turning the dirt into mud underneath the wire.

"Not much room," Rialle said, she herself in simple pants and a shirt, swaddled in her own cloak on the ground.

"No," Alassien agreed, having kept on a thin shirt for himself as well. Remme was atop Alassien's cloak, looking adorable as he curled up into a ball.

"There's room for one more," Remme's doe-like eyes met Turin's, Khumen's and Alassien's in turn.

Turin turned and sat down by himself, huddled against the wall of the cave. Khumen snorted and took a seat beside the young Elf. Alassien sighed and laid down beside the man, feeling him brush up against himself. They all began to doze off from there, having more or less refreshing nights. By the time the last of them had awoken, Alassien had doused the fire, dressed himself, and set everyone's clothes out in the morning sun to dry even faster.

"On the road we go," Remme muttered deliriously, bundled up in Alassien's cloak.

**_A/N: That was admittedly more of a filler chapter than anything, but you got to see Rialle, who was submitted by ShadowWolf223, thank you for her! Thank you to theStormHunter for Thrael, a prince of Erebor. That brings our total to 3 Elves, 2 Dwarves, and a Man. I would love for two more men, and perhaps one more of the others, or even more men depending on what goes. So if you're thinking about submitting, strongly consider a Human! I also have five guys and a girl, so about two more girls would be good. To those of you who are new: welcome, read Chapter 1, and the form is on my profile! Thank you! Let me know what you think, drop a review please :)_**


	3. Ch3: Tavern

**The End (SYOC) – See Author's Note at End of chapter for details about submitting**

**Chapter Three: Tavern**

The group had stopped for the night in a nice little plains area that was just about a day or two's walk from Dale. Turin's eyes scanned for any sign of a cave or outlook they could stay in.

Alassien chuckled from behind him. "Oh, my dear Elf, we've made you our scout, have we?" He grinned a bit. "It's safe near Dale, we can stay out in the open."

"Oh." The younger Elf blushed, setting his pack down on the grassy ground. The entire group set their things down, forming a circle around where Alassien was putting firewood. It didn't take him long to spark a fire in the noticeably drier weather than the night in the rain near Rohan.

"Story time?" Remme mumbled tiredly as he rested his head on the shoulder of the dwarf to his right. Khumen grumbled, but to everyone's amazement, made no move to push him away.

"Who would you like to tell the story, child?" Rialle teased lightly as she stretched her legs out, her hands dangling near the fire to get warm.

Remme smiled deliriously and pointed at Alassien. The elf just sighed and rubbed his fingers together. "I guess you all should know what we're doing exactly, right? Even if I don't know it all myself."

It appears everyone sat up a little bit more. They all knew the general tale: Melkor was prophecized to come back from the dead. How, no one knew exactly. He had supporters in Middle-Earth, and they had killed one, the shapeshifter in Minas Tirith. It seemed, however, that Alassien knew more than the rest of them.

"Melkor is dead, everyone knows that for sure." Alassien began, his cloak huddled around him. "But he was supposed to come back to life, or that's as far as the prophecy says. He is part of it, but someone has to let him in on the mortal side. His five closest lieutenants are the only ones who know how to get there. The shapeshifter was one of the five. If we can track down the other four, the world is saved."

"Do we know who they are?" Turin asked curiously, stretching out, his head resting on his pack.

"We know two of the remaining four," Alassien clarified. "One is of each race, or so it's said. Barur the Dwarf is one. He's incredibly powerful and has been spotted multiple times near Moria. It's impossible to locate him unless you're trying very carefully. Another is an Orc by the name of Golag. He's the leader of a band of Orcs and mercenaries alike. The Elf and the Human, we do not know."

Turin sighed deeply, scrubbing his eyes with his hands. "How do we find any of them? It appears we don't have a lead on any of them."

"Without a wizard, which we've been without for years now, I can't think up a way," Alassien took a breath. "Without them revealing themselves."

The group sat in silence. Khumen was staring into the flames, illuminating his nearly coal-like eyes. Remme was leaning up against him, finding the sturdy dwarf a natural pillar to lean on. Rialle's eyes were closed, deep in thought. Turin was quietly picking at the ground with a stick he'd found.

"What about the High Elves?" Rialle asked.

"Yeah!" Turin exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "They have nearly infinite knowledge as well, surely they could give us something that could help us locate them."

Khumen looked at the two of them as though they were mad. "You do know the three High Elves, don't you? The first is Himladir, the High King of the Elves. They say he's one of two to live in Rivendell these days, and he's intelligent, but half insane. The second is the Elvenking of Greenwood, but he's secluded and rarely steps out of his forest. The third is the lady in Lorien, who could be an asset to us, I suppose."

"Not Lorien," Alassien said immediately, his expression guarded.

"What?" Remme protested, looking at him. "He just said that's our best bet, and you say we shouldn't go visit the non-recluse non-insane one of the bunch?"

Alassien nervously gripped the hilt of his sword that was on his belt. For the first time, he looked cagey, unwilling to answer. He seemed to feel the weight of the eyes on him. "Fine." He sighed. "We can't go to Lorien because she hated it when I left. She won't let me back in."

"Alright…" Turin said carefully, sidestepping the giant question everyone had in their minds. "What about this High King guy, surely he knows more than the Elvenking."

"Yeah," Remme replied, his sleepy eyes concentrating on the fire now as well. "Who was this other guy who lived in Rivendell? His assistant, was it? Lover? God, I'm tired."

"Assistant, I believe. A friend," Rialle said. "I can't remember his name now, I swear I learned it."

While they'd been talking, Turin's face had gone white, and his eyes were as big as dinner plates in the fanciest of the Dwarven halls. It took the rest of them a while to notice the state of fright he appeared to be in. When Rialle finally noticed it, she chuckled. "Remme touch you again?" She joked.

"No," Turin said swiftly. "I just know the name."

Alassien sighed. Rialle was interested. "Let's hear it."

"Alassien," Turin turned to him.

The elder elf had the grace to turn away. Everyone else sort of watched him as he seemed to grapple with the idea of everyone else knowing. They stayed quiet while Alassien formed words to say.

"Everyone has a past occupation," Alassien said with a hint of a smile. "Yes, I worked alongside the High King Himaldir. Did in fact, right before this."

"So, you should go ask him if he can help!" Turin said joyfully. "We have an in already."

Alassien frowned, his hands working on smoothing out the tunic he was wearing. "I'm not sure he'll want to see me much either."

The rest of the group sighed, twisting over to sit down and prepare to go to sleep. It was going to be a long road to Dale, or at least it appeared that way. While everyone hunkered down in their cloaks and coats, they appeared to neglect to see that someone had followed them from Gondor…

Perched high on a rock overlooking the plain where the small group rested, a man clutched a sword. He had been days behind them for a while, attempting to catch up to the rest of the group. He'd seen them when they left Minas Tirith and had decided to pursue them. As he crept down the rocks, he missed his footing on a loose collection of rocks partway down. Cordred cursed as he began to tumble, beginning to glide down the hill with his back pressed against the rocks. It hurt like hell, with some pebbles scratching and tearing at his clothes.

The first to awaken was Alassien, his ears hearing something beginning to crash down upon them from above. When he looked up, he saw a man with a huge sword in his hands. "Ambush!" Alassien cried, grabbing his sword from his waist and pulling it from its sheath.

Before he knew it, the man was upon them. Because of the dark cloak the man wore, the symbol of the White Tree was hidden beneath it. Alassien's sword slammed down in an arc, catching Cordred off guard.

Driven by a desire to protect himself, the guard's sword slammed back at Alassien, but the quick-footed elf danced out of the way. The rest of the camp was slow to get up, only Rialle on her feet already. The elf and man grappled, their swords clinging away, useless, into the dirt beside them. The muscular man seemed to have the advantage at first, Alassien beneath him and fighting from below. However, Elvish strength shouldn't be ignored, for the elf shoved him off as easily as a blanket after a night's rest.

"Wait!" Turin cried from behind them. The rest of them whipped around to see what he was on about, and they all began to pace backwards. A group of men, all wearing strange-looking clothing, stood before them.

"Bandits," Remme said, grabbing a dagger that Khumen had passed to him.

Although likely smarter than the Orcs they had come across, this group of men had considerably less armor. "Pass over the valuables," The man in front said, holding out his hand.

Rialle had retrieved Alassien and Cordred's swords, pressing them into their hands. "Not to fight each other," Rialle said in a strict voice. "For them." She gestured at them with her head.

Alassien didn't have to be told twice, sprinting at the group with his sword raised. Just before his attack, three arrows pierced a few of the men near him, sent flying by Turin's bow. Khumen and Cordred ran in after the elf, Rialle wielding a shortsword and dashing in behind them. Remme nervously stayed near Turin, not a fighter in the slightest sense of the word.

The bandits surely weren't prepared enough for the attack, the small group easily overwhelming the mediocre swordsmen that had been sent to harry them. Only Cordred and Khumen had small slashes, having been fighting closer to the men they had been tasked with taking down.

Alassien's sharp blue eyes turned to Cordred immediately once the fighting was over. He pointed his blade at the throat of the man. "Who are you?" He said coldly. "Why are you here?"

The Gondorian soldier's face turned into a sneer, staring down the elf. "I'm here to help you, idiot."

"Alassien," Remme's voice came from beside him, tugging at his shirt sleeve. "He says he's trying to help."

The elder elf put down his sword and muttered an order to Remme, who nodded. The group began packing up, and Remme approached the new man. Cordred was standing off to the side, away from the group by a little way. "Why are you here?" Remme asked curiously, walking with him on the road to Dale.

"What are you?" Cordred replied to him, standing a half foot taller than the slimmer man. "The Elf's courtesan or his slave?"

Remme didn't even blanch, used to that sort of treatment from soldier-types. "I'm just curious." He put his thumbs in his pockets as they walked. "If you're coming with us, it's best to have an ally or two within the group. You've already made an enemy of Alassien, and I don't think Rialle thinks much of you either."

"Fine," Cordred said. "If you must know, I'm trying to help kill Melkor's servants. I overheard them talking to you at the brothel, and I knew that it was my destiny to come along. Even if it meant dealing with stuffy Elves and man whores."

Remme shrugged a little bit. "Well, that's what you've got. Plus, a Dwarf and more elves. I think you'll grow to rather like everyone."

Besides pleasant conversation between Cordred and Khumen, the talking was mostly reserved for those that were in the original grouping. Turin was walking by himself, as he usually did, enjoying the sights, sounds, and smells that he could find along the way. He was smiling, putting his face into different flowers to try and smell them. Cordred and Rialle were amused, slight smiles creeping onto their features at his antics.

The city of Dale laid ahead of them before too long. The city, proud and reinhabited since the dragon's fire had taken the first city of Dale down with it. Kites hung in the air, traveling merchants crowded the city's streets, and it seemed the whole down was bursting with a happy energy that was unrivalled in this part of the world. It took little convincing to get them inside the city limits.

"We need to track down anyone who may know of this Silmaril," Alassien looked at the group. "Is there anyone you know, Remme, that could lead us there?"

He looked regretful. "Unfortunately, not." Remme's eyes glittered with a realization, however. "Though there is someone who owes me a favor…"

"There's a tavern down in the city center," Khumen explained. "Remme can go with a few others to get this person, and the rest of us can head down there to begin piecing together a plan for the future. Right?"

"I can go alone," Remme protested. "She may not like seeing that many visitors. Besides, I know this city better than any of you. I'll be able to find you guys."

Alassien shared a look with Khumen, unsure if they could trust their new companion, particularly in a place that he knew better than them. But they each gave a slow nod. "Alright…" They said, leaving Remme to run off after his friend.

Through the cobbled streets he went, his feet flying as he ran. He bumped into merchants, cascaded down slick hills, and nearly stepped on a bird that was low to the ground. "Sorry!" He exclaimed each time as he raced towards his destination.

He knocked eagerly on the door, a bright smile on his features. The door opened slowly, a woman coming to the door. "Addiel!" Remme grinned brightly as the woman frowned deeply.

"Remme," She replied uneasily, folding her arms across her chest. "Wh-what are you doing here? I thought you were going south for a while. I didn't expect you to be back…so soon."

"I ran into a bit of trouble," Remme admitted, running a hand through his curly dark hair. "And I'm going to need to cash that debt you owe me."

Addiel was even shorter than Remme, taking on nearly a boyish appearance with the long legs, flat chest, and bright eyes. Her hair was wild and untamed, in curly mess that she nearly never sorted out. "A-already?" She said uncertainly. "I-I don't know. What is it?"

"An adventure," Remme shrugged. "I don't understand half of it, but we could use someone like you…with your abilities, you know."

Addiel frowned darkly. "I don't like the sound of that," She rubbed her foot against the frame of the door indignantly. "But I do owe you…for everything you did for me."

"Come on," Remme smiled at her, gesturing. "It'll be fun. Besides, we're only tracking down like four people, so it shouldn't be that bad, should it?"

Down at the tavern, it was approaching evening time. People had packed into their seats, for they were lucky that there was going to be a bit of entertainment with their meal. The tables were small, only allowing for a few to sit at each one. Cordred and Khumen packed into a table together, while Alassien, Rialle and Turin went into the other.

The lights were turned down low, a spotlight of sorts on a segment of the floor ahead of them. A man with copper hair was standing with a piece of parchment in his hands. "Hello everyone," His voice boomed. "I am proud to present tonight's entertainment as your innkeeper!" There was polite clapping and a bit of grumbling. "We have some special company tonight from our friends in Erebor. Prince Thrael, we are glad to have you."

A grinning dwarf was at the other end of the tavern, waving to the crowd. He had braided blonde locks, wild and unruly as well. Not the crown prince, or the King, Alassien remembered as he looked at him. But a known fighter…Alassien got to his feet quietly, slinking to the back of the room to watch.

"And now, our main event, our singing minstrel!"

The man that was before the had light blonde hair, rather uncharacteristic of those in Dale, who were known to have more darker colors. He was slim, wearing bright blues and greens. When he began to sing, it was apparent that he was good at his job. Everyone paid close attention, apart from Alassien who slid into the booth next to the prince from Erebor.

"An Elf, in Dale," Thrael began, his voice slurred from what seemed like excessive alcohol consumption. "Travelling with two other Elves, a Dwarf, and a Man. Why, it might seem like you're up to something."

"I may be," Alassien said neutrally as he glanced at the smaller dwarf. "Would you care to join us? I know the prince of the Lonely Mountain has been rumored to be a fearsome warrior with an axe. We could use some of that with us."

Thrael busted out into a laugh, hitting his drink against the table loudly, startling everyone else in the tavern, who had been paying close attention to the singer. "An Elf asking for help from me? Why, I couldn't turn down that! Sure!" His voice boomed, overpowering the singer. Some shot them looks, but most ignored it for they all had fond memories of the Dwarves of Erebor.

"Just one second, though." Thrael got up onto the tabletop and pointed a finger at the minstrel. "You!" His voice boomed. "Come here." He jumped, landing nearly next to the startled minstrel, whose instrument had nearly gotten in the way.

Alassien was confused, watching in horror as Thrael grabbed him by the shirt collar and tugged him out of the room. The tavern was quiet, people starting to sip their drinks as the innkeeper blustered into the microphone. "Uh hum…must've had a bit too much to drink." He let out a nervous chuckle.

Alassien had thought the same, but as he replayed the conversation in his mind, it hadn't seemed like a decision made strictly in the moment. He carefully followed down the hallway that the dwarf had taken the minstrel into. A door was open ahead on the right, angry shouting coming from it.

Alassien carefully edged into the room, the slim minstrel tied to a chair with some rope. Thrael was sitting up on a counter ahead of him, his feet propped up. "So, Leon, would you like to tell me where the Silmaril went, or would you like to play dumb today?"

Alassien's interest piqued, staying near the doorway as he listened.

The man frowned. "I don't know where it went, you idiot." He tossed his hair back. "I just know that the one that was here in Dale was in the possession of a Mrs. Euphemia Glari, a wealthy businesswoman from town. However, I know she and her husband work as merchants, particularly with the Woodland Realm. If she's not in Dale, she's probably somewhere between here and there."

"Likely story," Thrael snorted.

Alassien came fully into view, his crimson hair tied back loosely behind him. "I know you don't know me," He began, staring at the man who was strapped to the chair. "But if you could lead us to her, that would work wonderfully for us."

"I don't see why we need him, Elf," Thrael snarled at him. "He's a no-good con man, we don't need him on this thing."

Alassien shrugged off his concerns, stepping out of the line of fire. His blue eyes concentrated on the minstrel. "Could you do that? Lead us to her?"

"Yeah, I suppose," The man shrugged nonchalantly. "Wouldn't be too hard, I mean, she's either here or there, it's not exactly a hard search."

Alassien untied him. "Thank you," Leon said cheerfully as he hopped up, taking pains to ignore the Dwarven prince's burning eyes as they headed back to the rest of the group, who was assembled at the tavern. With one look from Alassien, the rest followed them out into the street. As they were leaving the tavern, Remme and Addiel bumped straight into them.

"Good luck?" Remme grinned as he playfully rubbed his hand down Turin's chest. The elf blushed and Remme laughed loudly, the group assembling outside in a circle.

"What now? We're being torn in two directions," Rialle said, having been caught up by Alassien. "We can't just split, it'll be hard for us to know what's going on with the other group, if they're succeeding or even still alive."

"We have to, don't we?" Khumen argued. "The High King has too much valuable information to give up, and he might even be a target. I say we split in two, one group going for the Elvenking and the other for the High King."

"Here's how we do it," Alassien said, grabbing a bit of parchment and beginning to write names down with a quill out of his pocket. "Turin and Rialle will go to the Woodland Realm, being two elves, they will help get you in. I meanwhile, will lead the other group to Rivendell, along with Remme. Khumen, you're in charge of the group to the Woodland Realm."

By the time Alassien was done speaking, everyone knew where they were going. Alassien, Remme, Cordred and Addiel to Rivendell, and Khumen, Turin, Rialle, Leon and Thrael to the Woodland Realm. Thrael passed several coins to Alassien, helping pay for their way.

"We meet in precisely six months," Alassien said to Khumen, embracing him. "In Moria. Not a day later. If the other group doesn't show up within four days, you must assume they have failed."

"We won't fail," Khumen's eyes glittered.

"I hope not." Alassien returned.

**_A/N: Yes, I'm breaking the group in 2 :D The group was getting so big, to manage it would be hard as one whole thing. Besides, I've got great stuff planned for both ones. I'm sorry I've been unable to post a new chapter, I've had about half this thing done for about two weeks, but I got sick with mono and wasn't able to continue. However, a very well-timed snow day aided me. _**

**_I am closing submissions from new submitters on Monday at Noon Central Time. People who have already submitted a character and if I want another from you at a later date, I will keep that open. I am not going to be harsh and say if you want to join later, you can't, but it will be a significantly higher threshold than it is now. If your character hasn't been introduced (Balmod and Rosemary, I believe are the only 2), they are still coming. Thank you! Let me know what you thought/what you want to see/what you look forward to!_**


	4. Ch4: The Price

**The End (SYOC) – See Author's Note at the End (Very important)**

**Chapter 4: The Price**

Khumen was getting on everyone's nerves. Turin kept glancing worriedly back at the rest of the group as they made their long trek towards the Woodland Realm. The dwarf hadn't taken to a leadership role well, having been rather content with letting Alassien handle the bulk of the work. When one of them would gently ask what to do for dinner, he'd snarl and say for them to handle it themselves. Normally, Rialle and Turin would go and catch something or snare something in a trap. On nights they didn't, they didn't eat.

"We go to the town on the lake," Turin peered at the map while they walked, his blonde hair falling loosely at his back. It had been getting colder the farther they'd been getting north, beginning to bundle up in more furs and coats. "From there, we can make it safely to the Woodland Realm and meet with the Elvenking."

"Why go to Esgaroth?" Khumen snapped in response. "We can skirt the edges and head into Greenwood with ease."

"It's Mirkwood now," Rialle said quietly, looking at the rest of them. Her eyes were sad for a moment. "The green has begun to recede, like it did last time. Only more. The Woodland Realm is practically shut, besides traffic with Esgaroth. That's why we must go there."

Turin gave a simple nod. "If we show that we have been to Laketown, the Woodland Realm could let us in if we bring some of the trade there. Plus, it wouldn't hurt to sleep a night or two in a proper bed."

The look that Khumen gave the elf was poisonous. He seemed to take any criticism as a direct attack against his very person – not the kind of leadership quality you'd like to see. He grunted and turned from the rest of them. Even Thrael, the prince of Erebor, seemed unwilling to confront him about his attitude change. He was rather content to stick by Leon and tell stories of past conflicts that the two had been involved with or witnessed.

"There was this orc pack that was running down by Osgiliath," Leon said to Thrael, his eyes bright with a sort of passion that they hadn't seen thus far. "It seemed to almost slip away, but we ended up getting them in the end. It had taken more effort for those soldiers than I had thought."

Thrael chuckled his big, booming laugh. His dark eyes glittered as they walked on the trail towards Esgaroth. He wore a dark metal bracelet that clung to his wrist, and it seemed to have some sort of imprint on it. The man looked at it and asked, "What is that?"

Thrael turned it to the light. It had impressions of triangles, that resembled mountains themselves. "I made it, years back, when I first began to smith. It was quite good, for what I was doing at that time," They had good inlaid in them, making it look even brighter in the sun.

"Careful," Turin turned back to them. "There's a man ahead."

If he had been more slender and less bulky, one could've nearly mistaken him for Alassien from afar. He had brownish-red hair, compared to Alassien's near crimson, and he was tall. The difference was their hair – this man's was a curly mess and Alassien's was neat and straight. He was leaning up against a tree, with a fairly large barrel sitting in front of him. He was counting coins, by the looks of it, with little sacks of leather sitting neatly and gold coins gleaming in the afternoon sun.

"Do we go by?" Turin asked Khumen, his green eyes alert and watchful.

The man didn't seem to notice them, just continuing to count his coins. Khumen looked up at the bright blue sky and sighed. "Might as well," He said, shouldering onward. He marched down the pathway in a way that seemed to be nearly exaggerated to the rest of their merry band. Turin shared a look with Rialle as they crept their way behind him.

"Afternoon," The man said jovially when he heard Khumen's stomping. "What brings you round these parts?"

Not trusting Khumen to speak, Rialle quickly jumped in. "We are just passing through on our way to Esgaroth. We have some business in the Woodland Realm." She knew she was just half-Elvish but would pass enough for an Elf to untrained eyes. That, and combined with her standing beside Turin, it would be hard not to mistake her for a pure Silvan.

His green eyes regarded them coolly. His eyes locked upon the bracelet on Thrael's wrist and took in their appearance. Thrael felt uncomfortable as his eyes looked him up and down. "Do you all need any help getting into Laketown?" His tone was friendly enough, but a hint of something else had crept into his voice.

Apprehensive, Turin turned to Rialle and began to mutter to her, "This guy gives me a bad feeling. Let's be about our business and go. We don't need him." Turin looked at the man with derision. Green eyes met green eyes, and neither looked away.

"Why would we need help getting into Laketown?" Khumen asked gruffly, his hand pushing Turin back away from the man. "The town is practically an open cesspool as it is. Sure, it's an unsavory place, but not the most dangerous."

The man clucked his tongue. "Listen, I don't have any idea what a couple of Elves, Dwarves, and a Man want to do in Laketown. They don't take well to foreigners, that's for sure." He chuckled to himself at a seemingly inside joke. "I'm saying that I'm willing to help you with whatever little task you're doing, if only for a bit of gold."

Some were slow to realize what the man was asking. Turin again was unconvinced, beginning to walk off by himself if it weren't for Rialle clutching onto his arm, he would've. Thrael fiddled with the bracelet on his wrist for a few seconds while he thought. Khumen grabbed a hold of his shoulder and hauled him into a conversation.

"He's a bounty hunter, I know it," Khumen snarled at him. "What do we do?"

"Bring 'em along," Thrael said lightly. "I have more than enough gold to pay him for the pleasure of coming on our little quest."

"I don't know…" Khumen said, a bit of doubt creeping into his voice. He was looking nervous, watching from side to side while he spoke with Thrael. It was obvious that he didn't want to make a decision that Alassien wouldn't make in the same circumstance. "What if he isn't a good man?"

Thrael snorted a bit, grabbing hold of his belt and looking at the man who continued to count his coins while Cordred attempted a little bit of conversation. "I doubt he's a good man, Khumen," Thrael replied. "He's a bounty hunter. But as long as we keep him _paid _there should be no problems. Besides, one extra man wouldn't hurt anything."

"Damn it," Khumen punched him lightly on the shoulder, his eyes beginning to gleam a bit for the first time in a while. "You've convinced me, your highness," He jested with the formal title, Thrael laughing in surprise.

"How much?" Khumen demanded of the man. "And what do they call you?"

"Balmod," The man's eyes met the dwarf's, finally recognizing him as their leader. He had been deciding between Rialle, Cordred and Turin, but now he could see that Khumen garnered the most respect out of the whole group. "I would prefer five coins now as a down payment, and then we will see how long this little engagement lasts before I decide upon a price."

Thrael ruffled in his pockets for coins. He came up with four easy enough, and Turin slipped him the last one. The green-eyed elf was wary, unsure like Khumen had been that Alassien would've made the same decision. But the young elf was respectful. Alassien had put Khumen in charge, not him. Turin reminded himself as they continued to walk upon the path.

The young bard that had come with them, Leon, was like to entertain them with songs during the evenings when they would settle down for supper. His voice was gentle, and swept over the hills like a soft breeze, rustling even the leaves on the trees above them. Normally, everyone sat around and talked and listened, but tonight, it was just Rialle and Turin who listened. Thrael was already fast asleep, and Khumen had taken the bounty hunter out for a walk.

"I want to know," Khumen said gruffly as he looked over at him. "Your past. We already know your current line of work, but why decide to come with us?"

"Well," The man smirked at him, quite a bit taller than the dwarf that stood close to the ground. "I could tell that your friend was some sort of royalty. His clothes were finer, warmer than the rest of yours. Plus, the two Elves certainly could pay their amount in coin. And, I suppose, a spark of adventure, you know?" His smirk turned into a smile, wistful. "A hodge podge group like you guys must be doing something rather important. Am I right?"

"Aye," Khumen nodded, running his hand through his dark hair. He could understand that, he supposed. "I don't like your motives, but I do understand them."

"Then we understand each other," And just like that the two that had greatly distrusted one another gave a simple nod to each other and kept walking. They made pleasant conversation, asking about homes and what they'd given up leading the lives that they each had respectively led.

"What has happened in Esgaroth?" Khumen asked him. "Why is it so dangerous?"

Balmod's expression turned grim. He looked wistfully towards the north, where they could see a dull light flickering and a cry of laughter from their group. "Laketown has changed, dwarf. You think I like to make a pretty penny," He whistled. "Those guys will straight up rob you, no questions asked. The trade routes the dwarves promised would come through never showed. Those poor folks," For a second his expression turned sorrowful. "They gave them everything."

"You're a bounty hunter," Khumen said slowly, beginning to understand and a bit of doubt creeping back into his voice. He'd heard a few years before that Thrael's elder brother, the young Prince Dili, had been captured and sold to some orc pack by a bounty hunter. "Did you…"

"I've taken on many jobs," Balmod said curtly, looking at him. "I do not like to speak of them. It is like reopening a wound you've long had sealed, master dwarf."

He knew that if Thrael would find out, he would take his axe to the man's skull. He couldn't necessarily blame him either. But it did fit the bill, unfortunately. It seemed typical of a man like Balmod to do whatever under the sun to get a bit more coin. Even if it meant selling a dwarf prince to a vicious killer.

Khumen didn't have a long time to dwell on it, for he heard something. His hand immediately went to his axe, and not a moment too soon. An orc scout leapt out of the trees at that moment, sending the dwarf to the ground immediately. Khumen grunted and thrust the knife into his belly, not realizing that for a second, his life had been in danger.

At the same time, two more had shown up, but Khumen didn't have time to lift his axe, as Balmod had already dispatched them with a pair of knives, slicing their throats. "My word…" Khumen whispered as he looked at the long distance between where they stood now and the camp they had set up. There was a stream of orcs, the scouts had been just the beginning. They no longer had any sight of their other friends.

"Get back," Balmod said, seeing a warg turn in their direction and begin to sniff the air. "Shit," He said, turning to run. Khumen was right behind him, nowhere near as fast but attempting to keep pace. The warg ran faster, catching up in record time.

"In here!" A voice came from the south. Ahead was a little shack, nothing more. In all honesty, it looked like a few sticks, maybe a bit of stone, and some paste that had coated it all together. A woman was standing there, black hair and grey eyes, her hand motioning them towards her. Khumen raced towards the shack, luckily making it inside just before the warg's teeth snapped down upon him.

"Do you have a bow?" Khumen asked the woman.

"Here," She grabbed a flimsy wooden one from a side of the room, tossing the bow towards him. He grabbed a hold of it and grabbed an arrow that was resting on the small table. Khumen carefully pushed a window open. He shot the arrow between the eyes of the warg, and the great beast fell before the door.

"Check for anymore," Khumen ordered the woman and Balmod.

"They're gone," Balmod confirmed as he checked outside the windows.

"Stay here for a while," The woman said, taking a seat upon a stone chair that was by a table. "It isn't safe to leave yet."

Khumen carefully took a seat, not trusting either of them. First, he had met Balmod not an hour before, and an orc pack shows out of nowhere. Then, this woman allows them into their home at the same time the orc pack had shown up. The house looked shoddy, as though it had been hastily designed and built. It wouldn't have surprised Khumen if it hadn't been built in the last few days.

"What's your name?" Khumen asked the woman.

She seemed young, her black hair glossy and down her back. Her eyes were grey, and she had high cheekbones, with a little bit of a point on her ears. "Rosemary. Most call me Romy though." She said. "I used to live in Esgaroth, but I decided to move out of town once things started to get a bit shiftier."

Khumen nodded. So, it was backed up then. Laketown was not quite the place it once was. "Let's go out and see what's happened." He said, not willing to wait any longer. Rosemary and Balmod followed him as he headed towards where the orc pack had descended upon them.

He gritted his teeth as he saw the scene. Dead orcs were everywhere, but there was no sign of the majority of those orcs, nor a sign of any of the rest of their group. Scarlet blood was on the ground, so someone had to have gotten at least injured.

"We head for Esgaroth," Khumen nodded. "Then onto the Woodland Realm."

"You're wanting an audition with the Elvenking," Rosemary said to him. "There's no other reason to head into Mirkwood."

Khumen eyed her suspiciously. "What of it, girl?" He snarled. He was irritated and wanted to get on the road immediately, wanting to fight the rest of their group to see if they had made it out alive. He felt embarrassed and worried, unsure if he'd gotten them killed.

"I wouldn't go there, but for great need," Rosemary said. "They say that the Elvenking has nearly gone insane these days. Even trade from Laketown has been greatly reduced. If you need to absolutely reach him, the best way would be to go straight for the forest, not through Laketown."

"Aye," Khumen replied quietly. "To Mirkwood we go."

. . .

The road was long to Rivendell. They had to go with speed, as well, so most nights Alassien or Cordred would carry Remme some distance when he grew tired. Alassien, with his Elvish disposition, and Addiel with her skinchanger background, had a much easier time when it came to trekking across long distances. Cordred, having been a part of Gondor's army, also could go for longer without a rest. Remme, who had no such training or background, was the one that seemed to be slowing them down.

Alassien was in good spirits, though. He believed they would make it with more than enough time to get there and back to Moria in a good timely manner. His brown-red boots were laced tightly as they came around the corner. "Welcome," Alassien said softly, stopping them at the path. "To Rivendell."

The water rushed quietly down the various waterfalls, and the beautiful now-nearly abandoned town was filled with polished ivory. Vines and leaves adorned the various pillars and roofs, but for the most part, it was well-taken care of. Remme awoke sleepily in Cordred's arms and looked around.

"I'm awake," He told him, and the soldier set him down quickly.

"So, we talk to this High King guy, we find out where they are, and we get out of here, right?" Cordred asked gruffly.

"It won't be that easy," Addiel said glumly, back in her regular human form. "I can guarantee it."

Alassien nodded and led the way down the path towards Rivendell. Birds chirped and sung their songs, making it appear as though it hadn't been abandoned that long after all. Simpler times came back to Alassien in a rush, of when he'd been there before. By the time they entered the proper town of Rivendell, there were some torches lit, but for the most part, no sign of life was there.

"He's probably already retired for the night," Alassien said, leading them down a small stone pathway that was smoother than any they'd been on prior to that day. "I will show you to where you can stay for the night, and then tomorrow we will make ourselves known to Himladir."

There was so much room in Rivendell the entire group could've slept completely apart from one another. And Cordred took advantage of that to do it. Addiel and Remme stayed close by each other, sleeping feet apart in what used to be some sort of infirmary. Cordred disappeared down another stone pathway, presumably to sleep. Alassien went to where he had stayed before.

His hand grazed the bannister as he walked towards his old rooms. He felt the grainy stone against his fingers, something that he had never noticed when he had spent years of his life there. He saw the pale white door of where he used to sleep, tucked into a corner near a waterfall. Alassien used to struggle to go to sleep without hearing rushing water. The first time he had gone on an adventure he had to make camp near rivers and canals in order to sleep. Luckily, he'd been alone and has since conquered that particular tic.

Alassien pushed open the door quietly, the wood squeaking against the stone floor from years of disuse. He was surprised to see that his stuff was all still there, the way he'd left it. His old bed was neatly made in clean white sheets, a pillow propped up against the wall. No dust adorned anything either. Drawings that he'd made years ago, of himself, of Himladir, of Rivendell, were sitting on the desk like it used to. The open window by the waterfall was wet, the stones darkened slightly by the water. He put his hand out the window and felt the droplets spray his hand. He smiled a bit in happiness.

He wasn't sure if he'd ever come back, back then. He had spent so much time pent up in Rivendell he hadn't seen the world. Now, he had seen the world, and wondered if there was any place that he would want to stay more than here. He unlaced his boots and set them beside the bed. Alassien approached a small culvert in which he had kept his old robes – looking for something that had been given to him years ago.

He pulled the shimmery garment out and appraised it. Himladir had given it to him as a gift for some reason or another. He couldn't quite remember that now. It was a very pale blue, with stars embroidered into it. He knew that the High King had made it himself. It would likely help their case if Alassien would wear it the next day, so he left it out on the armoire for later.

Alassien attempted sleep, but he could not. The memories of the place were too heavy and smothering any thoughts of rest. He sighed and buried his head into his hands when he saw the sun rising in the distance at morning. He softly changed out of his garb and into the shimmering robes that had been given to him. Different boots, too, otherwise it wouldn't have made much of an impression. Silver-colored, or gray, if you prefer, had been his usual go-to when he was in Rivendell. He was quite glad that he could find them easily tucked under the bed.

"What are you doing?" A voice came from the doorway, gruff and firm.

"Getting ready," Alassien said calmly, braiding his long auburn hair the way that Himladir used to like. "It takes patience, and a great deal of charm to deal with him."

Cordred stepped into the chambers and glanced about. "This was where you stayed, I presume?" He asked, approaching the desk where the drawings were.

Alassien tensed but said nothing. He didn't want any of them finding out about what he had been like here, what it had been like. Certainly not this man who he barely knew. Not Remme, either. Addiel, he could handle. It's just if she blabbed to Remme about it. He sighed and let go of his hair finally, thin strips tied and going down his shoulders.

"You were fond of him," Cordred noticed, picking up a drawing.

If Alassien wasn't an elf, his cheeks would've burned. Instead, he just nodded and stood up. The drawing was made shortly before he'd left. He had actually meant to give it to Himladir, as a sort of apology for leaving. Cordred placed it back on the desk with care, making great pains not to look at the rest of the papers that were scattered there.

"Let us go," Alassien said, leading the man from the room. The Gondorian followed him back to the infirmary where they found Remme and Addiel sitting up and chatting.

"… I don't know where to go after this," Addiel was saying to Remme. She turned to them once she saw them coming and nodded. "We're ready."

The quartet went two by two down the steps, Alassien and Cordred leading, with Addiel and Remme following behind. They noticed that Alassien seemed to know exactly where to go in that moment. He went down steps, heading towards a quiet open space that was near one of the biggest waterfalls. An elf stood there.

He had long, flowing black hair, with a crown that seemed to be made of light itself. Silvery beads glinted in the sunlight, and his white cloaks billowed around him with the spray of the waterfall hitting the sword that he wore on his belt. It was no doubt, this was Himladir, the High King of the Elves.

"It has been ages," His voice was smooth, turning to face them. "Alassien."

For once, the crimson-haired elf seemed to be at a loss for words, stumbling and trying to explain what they were doing and why they needed help. Himladir took steps towards them, and stood in front of them calmly. He was taller than even Cordred, who was the only one in their group that stood taller than Alassien.

Addiel made an audible gasp and clutched onto Remme's arm when Himladir swept down and kissed Alassien. It wasn't long, but it left their leader flabbergasted and reeling. The High King wasn't affected, just watching them. "Why have you brought _these _into Rivendell? I was hopeful you were returning for good," His voice had an edge in it.

"These?" Cordred snarled and Remme agreed with him, stepping forward to stand beside the fellow man.

"I don't have much of an interest for petty matters, Alassien," Himladir said as he took a seat on a bench near them. "I don't care about the wars of men and dwarves, whether there's been an orc or two spotted in the westfold. I truly don't. Do not get me involved in trivial matters. It was enough that you decided to get immersed in them yourself."

"I need to speak with him," Alassien turned to the rest of them. "Alone."

"No," Remme said immediately, his brown eyes looking at the elf. "You need us."

The High King laughed and looked at the man. "He doesn't need any of you. No Elf needs a man, skinchanger or no." Addiel was surprised that he could so easily tell what she was. "His words are true. Go, there is food and drink plenty. If Alassien can convince me to speak to you as a whole group, he will summon you back here."

Alassien gave them another hard look. Addiel quietly grabbed hold of both Cordred and Remme's arms. "Let's go," She said softly. "We don't want to make a scene." She led them down the walkway again, Remme protesting and complaining while Cordred simply watched the two Elves. He felt they had made a very, very poor decision.

**_A/N: I am so sorry for the long break, but I am glad to be back in it. I have introduced now every character I have gotten submitted. If you are new and reading this for the first time and would like to participate, send me a PM and we can work something out. For those of you who have been here the whole time: Thank you. I hope you enjoyed. I wanted to make it especially long as an apology for my absence. Please let me know what you thought and what you want to see in the future._**

**_Son of Arryn_**


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